


Kings Crossing

by PandoraCulpa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, ambiguous death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraCulpa/pseuds/PandoraCulpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s what I do, it’s what I’m made for, this fight. This endless fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings Crossing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2005 for the NASF II Challenge. The inspiration for the piece was "Kings Crossing" by Elliott Smith, and the lines in bold at the beginning and end are lyrics from that song, as well as two lines in the middle of the piece.

_**i can't prepare for death any more than i already have  
all you can do now is watch the shells  
the game looks easy, that's why it sells**  
  
The doors burst open at my feet as the gurney wheels itself into the A&E, skidding to a halt beside a rack of potions and poultices. I can feel the slow path of blood that is draining steadily from several gaping wounds in my chest. But the pain has mostly vanished, leaving only a chill as my life force relentlessly leaks into the sheets and mattress of my pallet. I’ve been down this road time and again in the past, but I’ve never been as cold as I am now.  
  
The mediwich appears, her stern face blanching when she sees what lies before her. She’s at my side in a flash, her wand tapping me in dozens of places I can no longer feel, but my mind can’t rest upon her and the spells she works on my body. Images slip and shamble before me, never holding still enough for me to focus, but letting me come close enough to recall the battle, the deaths…   
  
Red flares. Charred flesh. A slice of agony like blue lightning. I grit my teeth against crying out; with the medic’s ministrations, the pain has returned, driving me from this sterile room and into the depths of memory…  
_   
A perfect ambush; it should have been anticipated. Black robed, black masked figures, bright lights and screams that rose with the smoke over the dull red bulk of the train, cast from its tracks and lying on its side. Owls wheeled in the air above, as did the ravens, drawn by infallible instinct to the field of battle, and cats screamed from the shadows as the crowd stampeded first one way and then another. Desperate bids for escape, each blocked by more angels of death.   
_  
A particularly caustic salve is spread across my burned limbs, and I’m brought back to the present, screaming obscenities at the mediwitch and fighting the orderlies who are wrestling me back onto the table. The lights overhead pierce my eye; the magical one is gone, knocked from its socket in the initial blast, and that loss is the only thing that frightens me as worried faces drift above my head and acrid potion fumes sear my nostrils.  
  
“Damn it, Blake, it’s not responding! _ Accio elixirs! _”  
  
“We need those back in here! He’s not the only one dying…_   
  
The station practically erupted as he arrived, masked figures fleeing into the sky, almost hidden against the heavy black plumes of smoke that filled the air. Even the Muggles were screaming, running from the platforms to escape a death they couldn’t see, but could sense bearing down on them.   
  
King’s Crossing is the main attraction. Dominoes are falling in a chain reaction…   
  
The Girl Apparated to his side, a smear of blood crossing her cheek and matting in her hair as she babbled out a message about an attack on St. Mungo’s. A second later she was gone, and Shacklebolt was there with a similar report about Hogsmeade. He expected more, even as he hoped against hope that this would be all that their foes were capable of, that no one else would be involved in the carnage. Hoping that their forces were able to repulse this assault.   
  
Praying that he wouldn’t again watch his friends die.   
  
Grimly steeling himself against what must be done, he pulled out his wand and waved to the wizards that were under his command, signaling them to follow him into the fray.    
  
_Chest heaving, black spots floating in my vision. The mediwitch is frantic now, cursing as she tries spell after spell to heal the savage wounds in my body caused by that wretch, Dolohov. I bested him once; apparently, he never forgave me… Pain sears, causing me to twitch involuntarily, twisting away from the medic’s probing fingers despite her attempts to keep me still. Breaths come to me now slowly, lungs laboring to fill, and yet I fight on mindlessly, trying to rally this cursed, frail body. It’s what I do, it’s what I’m made for, this fight. This endless fight.  
  
This endless night.  
  
 **this is the place where time reverses  
dead men talk to all the pretty nurses  
instruments shine on a silver tray  
don't let me be carried away**_


End file.
